Girls' Night Out
by Oxymoronic Alliteration
Summary: Abby and Ziva end up in trouble during an outing. Hangman prize for Lawral!


"Ziva?" Abby whispered in a trembling voice.

"Yes, Abby?" Ziva was keeping a far more cool composure than Abby.

The Goth girl paused, glancing down at her feet. "Um…are you…"

"Scared?" Ziva supplied.

"Yeah."

She considered the question. In truth, she wasn't exactly scared. She was nervous, yes, but in Mossad one could not let fear creep in. Fear led to bad decisions. Bad decisions…well, that could lead to many unwanted things. However, Ziva knew that now was not the time to play the calm and collected Mossad agent. Abby was frightened (and with good reason) and she needed reassurance.

"Yes, Abby. I am scared."

"Hey! No talking!"

A gun barrel was thrust in the girls' direction and the immediately quieted themselves. They didn't want to instigate the men, lest one should get nervous and shoot one of them.

It had been a surprise to them. They had decided to have a girls' night out, starting with a stop at the chocolate store to stock up on woman's true best friend. How were they supposed to know it had been taken hostage by a trio of men who planned to tunnel through the wall into the bank vault situated next door? They had walked in and were immediately grabbed, guns pointed at them, and bound to chairs back to back. On the far end of the shop, two employees were similarly bound and just as frightened by the current situation.

The men were in what looked to be the stock room, save for one man who was pacing the shop floor, on the look out for cops. He was a short, thin man, but the rifle he held in his hand was enough to intimidate anyone from trying anything. Ziva, though, knew she had to do something. They had seen the robbers' faces and she knew there was a slim chance of them getting out of there alive.

Groping her hands about behind her back, Ziva found Abby's wrist, encased in a spiked bracelet. She wasn't sure how sharp the spikes were, but she furiously began rubbing the duct tape which bound her wrists against the spike. Abby noticed it, but said nothing. Ziva knew how to take care of herself.

"You guys almost done in there?" the look-out called to his cohorts.

"It's gonna take some time," was the gruff reply. "Just keep an eye out!"

It took a bit of time before the duct tape finally broke, and Ziva tried not to let her relief show on her face. She had to concoct a plan before she acted and Abby was the only one who could help her.

"Abby," she said in the lowest tone she could. "I need you to ask to use the restroom."

"Why?"

"I have a plan. There's a window in the bathroom. Climb out and get help."

"What about you…and them?" she asked, nodding to the two employees.

"Abby, just do as I say."

"Okay, okay!"

"I told you to be quiet!" the gunman snarled.

"Um, I have to use the bathroom," Abby said nervously.

"No bathroom breaks."

"Please?" she asked. "I really, _really_ have to go! Do you want a puddle on the floor when you guys are making your get-away?"

The gunman considered this for a moment. "You have two minutes in there," he warned.

"That's all I need."

He untied her and pulled her to her feet, pushing her down a small hallway where the bathroom was located. Ziva waited until he had rounded the corner before she stood and stealthily strode to the hallway. A peek showed that Abby had just closed the door to the restroom and that the gunman was standing guard, waiting for her. Ziva quickly sprinted up behind him and grabbed the hand which held the gun. She simultaneously banged his head against the door and pulled the rifle from his grasp, and the man crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

So far, so good.

"Ziva?" came a curious call from within the bathroom.

"Go, Abby!" she insisted as she bound the man's hands behind his back. "I am fine! Go get help!"

She waited until she heard the squeak of the window being opened from within before she returned to the main area of the shop. She indicated to the two employees not to make a sound as she untied them. She pointed them to the bathroom – she didn't want to risk any of the other men hearing the door open and close – before making her way to the stock room where the other men were hard at work.

"We're almost done."

"How much longer?"

"A few more minutes."

"Good."

Footsteps neared the doorway and Ziva flattened herself against the wall to avoid being seen. She still had the pilfered rifle, but she knew she was outnumbered two to one. She could escape through the bathroom window as the others had, but who knew if the cops would arrive in time to stop the robbery? Besides, the idea of taking down the duo of remaining men was quite exciting.

"Go get Ray," one of the voices ordered. "You two get rid of the hostages."

Ziva sprinted into one of the small hallways and watched as a diminutive man exited the stock room. This one was unarmed and completely oblivious. It would be almost too easy to take him down.

"Scream and I will kill you," she whispered when she grabbed him, pressing the rifle into his back. The man froze and made no attempt to call for his accomplice. Ziva pushed him forcefully into a broom closet, striking the back of his head and knocking him unconscious as well. Two down, one to go.

"Just what do you think you're doing?"

Ziva's body tensed as she felt the barrel poking into her back. This was not part of the plan.

The man glanced over her shoulder where his accomplice lay unconscious. He also became aware of the fact that the other hostages were nowhere in sight. "You little bitch!" he hissed. He grabbed her roughly and pushed her against the wall. "Drop the gun."

She complied, letting the rifle fall to the floor with a clatter. Her hands instinctively rose into the air, but her mind was racing as she assessed her options. Letting this man shoot her was not one of them, she knew, so the only option she really had was to take him.

In the distance they heard the sound of approaching sirens. Surprised and not sure how to proceed, the man momentarily let down his guard, giving Ziva a chance to grab a hold of the gun. But he wasn't about to let it go without a fight.

"Let go now and I won't hurt you," he grunted as each struggled to obtain the weapon. Ziva, though, was not fooled. If she let go, she was as good as dead. However, getting the upper hand was proving fare more difficult than she had expected. The man had an iron grip on the gun and he was not as weak as his accomplices.

"Fine! You want to die, that's your own business!" With that last comment, the man rammed Ziva into the wall. She loosened her grip and felt the gun ripped from her hands as she fell to the ground. When she looked up, the gun was pointed directly as her head. She closed her eyes, waiting for it.

But it never came. Instead, she heard a thunk and a groan, followed closely by something dropping to the floor. When she opened her eyes she saw the man crumpled on the ground before her and Abby standing over him with one of her platform boots in hand.

"Abby...I told you to go!"

"And let you have the honor of doing the butt kicking?" Abby asked, extending a hand to help Ziva to her feet. "Not a chance!"

"You could have been hurt."

"You could have, too, if I hadn't come back."

Outside the shop, cop cars pulled in. Officers jumped out, guns drawn, and began filing it. Abby and Ziva sat side by side, tired from the ordeal.

"You know," Abby confided, "I think this is by the far the most interesting girls' night out I've ever had."

* * *

**AN:** I thought we should see some butt-kicking with Abby and Ziva! Lord knows they can hold their own!


End file.
